


Bad habit

by quenive



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, affection/touch-starved boy, bring him to life, save him from the nothing he's become, spoiler alert: dirk jacks off to jake's selfies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7245931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quenive/pseuds/quenive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now, if he only knew the enticing effect this would have on you, he sure as fucking hell wouldn't even dare to send a picture so.. well, damn provocative you'd say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad habit

GT: Confound it dirk if you were going to bugger off the least you could do was give a bro one proper warning  
GT: You know how fidgety i get when you flee like this. And right after a fellow asks for your honest opinion no less  


The all too familiar sounds of pesterchum notifications break your focus. There is a heavy lump in your throat, and it's stubborn enough to remain there even after the third forceful gulp. You figure you were going for a fourth, but it was already aching your throat and your muscles were already strained as they were. Inhaling itself could only be described as pure agony, and you shun every god-like being, silently curse every bogus as shit myth your predecessors before you believed in.

You don't remember English looking like that but to be fair, neither of you were too big on selfies. The one presented to you didn't have his face in it, but it you'd still consider it some forbidden fruit among the pictures on your computer. You were extremely paranoid to pluck it, but when you did, you suddenly praise the bogus as shit mythical snake thing that convinced you to snatch up that alluring apple. Or olive. Whatever the forbidden fruit was. In this case, it was the file Jake sent to you with no warning what so ever. A name such as me.PNG didn't really leave much to contemplate about, but it alone made your heartbeat increase by up to a handful of ironic anime dokis.

You were a bit frantic to open it and just skimmed through the messages Jake sent after the file nested itself on your desktop. Something about a progress picture being overdo, and that he had been pushing himself really hard lately. The result of all his hard work was, without a doubt, a picture of his left bicep in high definition. You guess his grandma, being the rad old lady she was, left him with a bunch of electronic crap suited for every task at hand. Though, Jake just got back home from an "intense tomb raid", as he'd put it. Bits of his room (mostly hideous, completely unironic posters) could be seen in the background, but that's the last thing you were concentrated on. You really don't recall him looking like that. Or, well, you never imagined his muscles looking like they do. Being a disgusting jungle kid had some perks, yeah, and you really couldn't help yourself when your eyes shamelessly locked on the photo and refused to unmount themselves from the image.

His skin was tan, smooth, still somewhat damped with sweat from his previous excursion. You can plainly see one agonizing droplet of sweat in the far curve of the flexed muscle despite the obvious lack of contrast between the soaked skin and that specific drop. The picture was taken from a far enough distance for you to make out a bit of his neck, but other than that, the main focus was on the arm he was displaying for you and only you. The arm that could pin you down and hold you in place with such ease. Not that you'd really complain, though. You'd probably be able to weasel out with some effort, but thrashing and squirming would be the last things on your mind if it would ever come to that situation. He'd hold you down, press his allegedly strong body against yours. Your nostrils somewhat widen as you imagine the smell of the shitty Axe deodorant he told you he uses mixed with a gentle hint of sweat and pleasant body odor. You don't want him to be gentle, though, you want him to make a wreck out of you but your thoughts were never as vivid as they are now and you want to have his arms wrapped around you and you stop yourself from reaching south just in time.

Now, if he only knew the enticing effect this would have on you, he sure as fucking hell wouldn't even dare to send a picture so.. well, damn provocative you'd say.

Right, you barely notice that you're getting sidetracked once more. The heart furiously beating in your chest was heavy as you exit the window, literally crowbaring yourself away from the image at hand.

TT: I'm here.  
TT: I gotta say, man. That's some gnarly craftsmanship if I ever saw any.  
TT: Took me a while to picture the full scenery. It mostly revolved around a bunch of highly experienced sculpture gurus given the task to manifest a teen boy's sweaty muscle out of jack shit.  
TT: Out of raw fucking nothing. And what do they do?  
TT: They make the best damn piece of Adonis memorabilia yet, even the real deal is fanning himself ferociously while looking down on us mere mortals.  
TT: That, Jake, is a bro's honest opinion.  
GT: Oh. Is that, er... a good thing?

An embarrassingly goofy smile creeps up on your lips when you see him reply instantly. It's almost something that distracts you from the rapid discomfort you feel in your lower regions, and you sure as fuck underline the almost because it's really doubtful that anything can be a good enough distraction from your obvious excitement. Though, he really didn't need to know about that and you weren't just going to give yourself away like some filthy amateur.

TT: Yeah, it's a good thing.  
GT: Well thats splendid! Ive been gloriously excited to flaunt my progress when im most pleased with it  
GT: These pesky creatures sure do take a lot from a daring adventurer  
GT: But you know id be more surprised if nothing positive came out of brawling with those nasty hooligans  
GT: Oh! And im not forgetting about brobot, he's one of the things that made the increase of my ruggedness possible  
TT: Are you calling my robot a nasty hooligan, bro?  
GT: No, no!  
GT: Ah drats i shouldve worded it better  
GT: See uh, what i meant was that roughousing with the completely not nasty contraption of your own design sure left its marks on my person  
GT: I honestly did not mean to offend you nor your exceptional robot  
GT: Though he does get extra feisty at times  
GT: I wouldn't call him a barbarian but he sure does have his moments of madness  
GT: Not that im calling him mad or anything! I just  
TT: Jake.  
GT: Yes?  
TT: I was joking.

This time, your smile gets wider. It's the same smile that you sport every time you talk to this guy, and every time he says something that radiates utter bullshit. You love his bullshit, you enjoy every suppressed chuckle that oozes out of you at the things he talks about and the way he does so. It's impossible to put a finger on what really makes this dude so appealing, but both you and Crocker can agree on one thing. He utterly, undeniably, without hesitation, is a guy able to take ones breath away.

GT: Blimey buster, you sure hoist my quivering knickers up in a tight twist sometimes

You're.. having second thoughts on that last train of thought. On the bright side, you can probably agree on the statement Jake just made with a simple 'vice versa'.

"Same.", you whisper to yourself in your quiet, empty room. It almost echoes throughout it which draws out a shaky sigh from your lips.

TT: Is that all, sir English? You just wanted my opinion of your proudly earned assets?

You hope that's all, mostly because you don't want to live with the inevitable ting of guilt that comes with the realization of you beginning one of your "sessions" so eagerly that you didn't even have time to pry yourself away from the computer before you start.

GT: Well. yes and no  
GT: Mostly no when you look at it  
GT: See i thought maybe you and i could uh  
GT: Oh jiminy crickets its bloody weird now that i give it a second thought  
TT: Well spit it out.  
GT: Considering were the best of bros i presumed we could engage in some bro bonding festivities  
GT: We can call it bronding!  
TT: I doubt we really needed a name for for our gnarly turb(r)o bronding, but thanks for providing one.  
GT: Now hush there i was getting to the point  
GT: Maybe we could compare? I recall you talking about all of your exciting robo brawls with the batterwhichs blasted minions  
GT: That surely falls into the hardcore workouts category!  
GT: Id love to see what kind of mark it left on you  
GT: Dirk?  
GT: Blast it dirk this is no time for restless dilly dally whered you scatter off to again

Where to, indeed?

Your heart nearly skipped a beat and you had to push yourself away from the desk. Being in such of a close proximity to your monitor made it kind of difficult to breathe, as if you were suffocating under the weight of your own arousal. The erection you had sporting from the moment you saw the photo he sent complained with a painful throb. Your hand almost indulged it, but you somehow remained calm enough to legitimately consider the possibility. It wouldn't be embarrassing, not by a long shot. Not bragging here like a self centered prick, but you're pretty sure you too have something to show. But, yours are notably different from his. Maybe a bit smaller in mass, but they also differed in shape. You'd really need to inspect his anatomy further to really get a sense of what's going on, but you didn't trust yourself to look at the photo once more.

Once you see his obvious irritation at your absence, you quickly fumble to get your phone out of your pocket before you realized it was casually placed on the desk in front of you. Right, you'd need an actual alibi on why you went away this time so you decided to snap a picture and send it as a legit excuse. You open up your phone's camera and take a deep breath before bending your arm at your elbow and shifting it over your chest. You make sure to add a bit of your jaw in the picture too. God, what if... what if this has the same effect on him as it does on you? Your gut flutters which makes your phone hand shake, and you frown at the sight of a generally blurry photo. After you groan in slight frustration you go for a second, much more successful attempt. Once the photo is examined well enough to be confirmed as send-worthy, you open pesterchum on your phone.

timaeusTestified [TT] sent golgothasTerror [GT] file "obamacantbantheseguns.PNG"  
GT: Oh  
GT: Right then, chap!  
GT: Id say the presidential personas have no business in taking away your manly pistols  
GT: By the looks of it they should be showering you in a heap of firearms, arms being the underlined word here  
TT: Are you saying my guns need some groovy pumpup by the government itself?  
GT: Now listen here mr strider im not falling for your tomfoolery this time!  
GT: My knickers remain as untwisted as they can possibly get and there is no way you can tangle the wretched things  
TT: Fair enough. So?  
GT: Ah yes. I quite enjoy your willingness to participate in such a silly action  
GT: Have a butchers at this  
golgothasTerror [GT] sent timaeusTestified [TT] a file "me2.PNG".

You sit there frozen, wondering what's the dude up to now. You're almost scared to download the file, afraid it might be something even worse. Your own muscles tense out of impulse as you slowly bring your cursor over the amazingly clever name. English didn't really share your knack for the ironies, as he'd call it, but you really wouldn't change a thing about him. Even when you tell him that he should be more like Jane or Roxy, it's doubtful that you really mean any of those statements. When you click on it, a photo icon appears on your desktop and you almost hold your breath while you open it.

And then you choke on it, even though you probably had nothing to choke on.

There's not much a guy could say about his best bro's chiseled abs, other than referring to them as a simply captivating sight for his sore eyes. Actually, you figure you'd slip off your shades for this one, fold them, set them on your desk in front of you. You massage your temples in a clockwise formation with the tips of your index fingers, back slouched in an arch, elbows pressed onto the desk in front of your keyboard. Your hands have to be occupied, you can't touch yourself yet. It might seem as a form of torture, or teasing, but you don't care. His abdomen is just like his bicep; tan, mesmerizing, smooth. Just a bit of hair in a thin line below the belly button and down to the rim of his awful shorts. There's a distinctive v-line going down the front sides of his stomach, trailing towards each other and disappearing under his shorts. You've never seen this much skin from Jake, and you don't know if you ever wanted to like this. It's kind of bittersweet, you'll admit, and the involuntary pulse from your cock just backs up that statement.

You struggle for a bit, shifting in your desk chair as if you were nesting like a bird of sorts. Okay, there is no fucking way regular bros send each other pictures like this. It's almost comical to an extent, and you'd laugh your ass off ironically if you weren't so fucking horny. Was English actually a sinister mastermind who planned all of this, planned your suffering through gentle teasing and was aware of every single action he made?

And you actually humor him by shooting up while straightening your back up, and literally yanking your shirt off. You glance down at your abdomen and notice a visible lack of any six-pack. Well it's there, but the lines aren't nearly defined as Jake's . A few faded cuts are visible, some distinctive lines paler than your skin already was. You wonder what will he think of them, but they are mostly a result of your constant battles with her imperial drones. Sawtooth is a huge help in those, and he can only do so much to protect you. So you lean back into your chair, and snap a pic almost identical to his in style, but largely different in content. You wonder again, this time as to why is he so excited about this when you really don't have anything notable to show him. Maybe he just enjoys seeing more of you? Even in a platonic way, maybe he just enjoys seeing his best friend's random body parts?

This time your hand is steady and your picture is visibly nice, so you send it on the first try because you're satisfied with how it looks like.

timaeusTestified [TT] sent golgothasTerror [GT] file "snowymountainsofgreenland.PNG"  
TT: First of all, I take no responsibility in my vast lack of stomach cushions.  
TT: We can't all be flaming studs like you, English.  
GT: Thats one endearing compliment i must say chap  
GT: I see nothing wrong with your exceptionally manly, err... abs! I sure would like to take you on in a rowdy round of fisticuffs  
GT: You know, give the real deal a whirl instead of getting polvurized by that vicious robo dirk duplicate  
GT: Dirkplicate!  
GT: Dirk.. pal, are you there?  
GT: Now i know that one was horrid but i dont think i quite threw a spanner in the works just yet!  
GT: I have a feeling this is growing into one foul habit of yours  
GT: Anywho i am completely knackered and am off to bedfordshire  
GT: Ill be seeing you in a few after ive had my snooze!

At the time of Jake sending that, you are already helplessly clutching at yourself, panting out the most vile obscenities while beads of sweat form on your forehead.

The thought of him and you fighting. Him and his guns, the potential danger they both pose. His shorts and the unneeded amount of skin they show. Him and you, fighting. Or better yet; wrestling. Body pressed against body and the literal smell of testosterone in the air. Your roughousing then escalates into something more sensual, yet not less rough. Your skin almost tingles as you vividly imagine his hands exploring every inch of you. The leather of your fingerless gloves (which you obviously didn't have time for removing) was a foreign feeling on the sensitive skin of your cock, and the sensation alone is something you weren't expecting to be so agitating in the best of ways. It didn't take you long after that, with both of the pictures opened up on the screen in front of you and your embarrassing desperation that you didn't even try to hide. Who needs dignity when they live alone? You came with a loud whine, his name exiting your lips as an intense orgasm hits you like a brick.

And then you just sit there, nearly twitching in the angelic afterglow while intrusive thoughts invade your head. You're a fucking disgusting, vile human being, and you just experienced motherfucking nirvana like never before.

**Author's Note:**

> For my dear, sweet mother. Bless you, Fern, god fucking bless you.


End file.
